


Control

by TheHuggamugCafe



Series: A Customer’s Spicy Order [1]
Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Edging, F/M, Orgasm Denial, husband/wife, incubus!Arsène
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-12
Updated: 2018-12-12
Packaged: 2019-09-17 03:06:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16966515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheHuggamugCafe/pseuds/TheHuggamugCafe
Summary: Control.You sensed his need for it in everything he did, everything he was doing to you.You know he’ll never relinquish his hold on it; the underworld would freeze over before that happened.Nor will he ever relinquish his hold on you, for that matter.





	Control

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DragonsInkwell (Lafrenze)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafrenze/gifts).



> Gift to Dragonsinkwell (Lafrenze), a fellow writer and someone I look up to. Thank you very much for placing this spicy order, dear customer.

Contrary to popular belief, there was such a thing as being stuck between Heaven and Hell.

How could you be so certain of their existence, despite having never seen Heaven or Hell for yourself?

Because you were in the midst of the most excruciating form of blissful torture imaginable.

That torment came in the form of being pressed to the sheets that covered the king-sized bed you sat upon, on your hands and knees. Your barely clothed bottom was displayed to a certain man’s red-eyed leer, as was the expanse of your back, your rigid posture, how your fingers clutched at the sheets you and Arsène were on.

Your husband had been patient as he undressed you, extremely so, slowly peeling each piece of clothing away from your hot, shivering body. His lips had peppered your face, your lips, your entire body with kisses as he worshipped you underneath the cold, piercing glare of moonlight that poured in through the bedroom window.

The small puff of warm air that hit the back of your neck as he breathed a laugh from behind. It successfully caused a shudder to possess your shoulders as the hot exhale hit the bare nape, and a chill to dance its way down your spine, however…

It wasn’t an unpleasant chill, not if the sudden but brief gush of liquid that flowed into your husband’s waiting palm, his gloved fingers cupping, poking, and prodding your warm, leaking sex was any indication of how you felt, that is. A few strands of hair lightly tickled your skin, lazily fluttering across your throat and your shoulders along with the brief gust of air that Arsène breathed past his lips.

If it wasn’t for the item of clothing that you wore, the only piece that you were permitted to wear…

You would be as bare as the day you were born.

Perhaps… That was the reason why you were allowed to wear anything at all.

Control.

You sensed his need for it in everything he did, everything he was doing to you.

“Is this to your liking?”

You hitched in a breath as Arsène’s voice simpered into the crook of your neck, kissing his way up to your ear, cooing sweet nothings into your ear as he raised a hand. His gloved fingers parted a fringe of hair that was in the way of your eyes, pausing only to pepper your neck, your shoulder with kisses.

It was. It was most certainly to your liking, after all…

He knew what you liked.

He knew just how to touch you, he knew how to kiss you.

He knew how to alternate between whispering the sweetest of words, and hissing the most sinful thoughts into your ears, but…

Most importantly, above everything else that he knew how to do to you…

“N-No.”

You just barely willed back the urge to flinch, the painfully obvious stutter that laced the single word you uttered didn’t go unnoticed by you. You were lying. You knew you were, and you knew that Arsène would know you were lying.

Worse, he’d have no trouble picking up on your sugarcoated falsehood.

Arsène laughed into the crook of your neck, the vibration of his chuckle sending a miniature shock wave pulsating throughout your body. It started in the core of your being, trailing up to your erratically beating heart, following the chill that wormed its way down your spine.

The river of ice was soon swept away by a blazing fire that ran its way through your nervous system, resulting in a tingling sensation that pricked your fingers—still clutching the bedsheets you and Arsène sat on—and, fortunately, it stopped as soon as it pricked your brain with white hot electricity.

Now…

Now all of your senses were working on overdrive, listening, feeling, seeing, and sensing for the first hint that Arsène was going to do something, anything to you.

You didn’t have to wait long.

You were granted a brief reprieve, but finally, you felt it.

You felt a gloved hand trailing a smooth, careful trail up your bare thigh, stopping to rest on your scantily clad hip, and you drew in a slow and shaky breath.

“My, you certainly seem to be…”

You felt Arsène’s front pressing into your back, and behind the jeans and underwear that he still had on, you felt the telltale hint of a raging hard-on fitting snugly into the swell of your barely clothed ass. It took everything you had to will back the familiar desire to shamelessly roll your hips back, to meet Arsène’s slow, methodical thrusts in a way that wasn’t anything but lustful desperation.

The incubus’s noiret hair tickled your neck, the side of your jaw as his chin rested on your shoulder for a few moments, breathing a lazy, drawling hum into your ear.

“What are you-”

Your question was abruptly cut off with a flick of his wrist, and with a slow, prodding motion of two gloved fingers that gently scissored your warm, moist walls, and you exhaled a choked gasp.

“Tense, my love, and… You seem to be awfully rebellious tonight… Why is that, I wonder?”

The words your husband hissed tickled the shell of your ear, the breath that slithered past his smiling lips wafted over the bare skin of your neck, your shoulder resulted in a shudder that shook you from head to toe.

Truthfully, you didn’t know why you weren’t catering to Arsène’s whims on this particular evening.

You just… weren’t.

It was as simple as that.

Honestly, some part of you screamed at you, irritated that you’d chosen now to be stubborn, to refuse to simply give into Arsène.

You knew one thing, however.

Sooner or later, you’d cave in to whatever request, whatever order you were asked to fulfill. You knew you would, and Arsène knew that you would.

You’d submit yourself to the incubus’s will. You’d surrender to his warm, inviting touch.

You’d gladly allow yourself to be lured in by his smooth, enchanting voice, his voice that reminded you so much of dark satin; velvet in nature, but as dark and tempting as sin itself.

If Arsène’s voice was a contract to fork your soul over to him, then…

Surely, the reactions he drew from you no matter what he did, the gasps, the shivers, the breathy moans of his name that made you feel like a slut on the street corner, desperate for a man’s touch, willing to do whatever he asked of you…

They would absolutely condemn you to burn in eternal hellfire.

You had taken the pen and willingly signed yourself to be damned for all eternity.

A chuckle from behind pulled you free from your musings, and you risked a glance in the mirror that hung from the wall on your left.

Despite the bedroom’s warm temperature, you felt cold perspiration forming on your forehead as your eyes met the gaze of your husband.

Arsène’s stare was loving, tender, and yet so devilish and sensual.

His reddish orange irises burned into you like hot coals, his gaze was narrow and half-lidded as a carmine leer stared into your eyes, breathing a laugh as he relished in the delighted shiver that possessed you. The demon’s glowing red eyes watched as you shook from head to toe, still on your hands and knees, your fingers clutching the sheets that you and Arsène sat upon.

A small grin pulled at his lips, a smile that was satyric and serpentine, proudly displaying a teasing hint of pearl-white teeth to you as he voiced a few tsk’s, still staring at you as though he dared to peek into your soul for the desire, for the reactions he sought to pull from you.

“Hmm,” he crooned, seemingly amused. He sounded much like a purring cat…

“You don’t seem to be in the mood to answer your doting husband tonight, darling.”

“T-That’s not true, Arsène— _ah!_ ”

A sudden but gentle nip to your neck, and a quick thrust of two gloved fingers cut you off. You exhaled a shuddering breath, a breath that left your quivering lips as you tried to restrain yourself from rocking your hips to the motion he was beginning to set for you.

You tried, but despite your quiet demand, your barely clothed hips started to slowly rock into Arsène’s glove-covered hand.

“Oh, but it is true, my dear. However,” he paused, chuckling into your neck as he pressed a kiss to your throat, applying a wet suction.

“I do not mind. You may not be willing to speak, but your body sings so beautifully, don’t you agree?”

You swallowed a gulp, one that you swore was the size of a baseball. You felt the small glob of saliva slide down your esophagus, trailing its way down to your stomach, where it curled and flip-flopped in wanton anxiety.

A warm fire spread throughout your trembling body, ferocious, but filling you with a greedy longing. Slowly but surely, you were almost drowning with a hunger that no degree of food could satiate your desires, a yearning that no amount of water could satisfy your body’s carnal pleas.

You would be in need of more of his touches, more of his carefully timed strokes, more of his loving kisses, more of his voice cooing sugarcoated nothings into your ear.

But, even so…

You wouldn’t submit to his smoothly spoken whims so easily.

You wouldn’t. Not tonight.

Your tongue darted out to lick at your lips, coating the upper lip and the bottom lip with saliva, sucking in a breath through your trembling lips.

“No. I don’t agree, Arsène.”

It took everything you had to keep your voice steady, to refrain from your voice stuttering, trembling with uncertainty even once. Honestly, you were surprised at how firm, how no-nonsense in tone your voice sounded, and you quietly congratulated yourself for such an achievement.

However…

“You speak such sweet lies, my dear rose,” Arsène purred into your ear, breathing a laugh.

It seemed that no matter how hard you tried, your efforts were ultimately in vain.

His lips trailed a path of warm, open-mouthed kisses from your ear, down your neck, and to your shoulder, polishing his display of affection off with a barely-there nip and a wet suck.

“You shouldn’t deny yourself, my love. Never with me. Or perhaps…”

He paused, most likely for dramatic effect, knowing that you’d be listening attentively to what he had to say.

A potent tremble shot through you, resulting in your fingers curling into the bedsheets, clutching them in tight, white-knuckled fists as a warm exhale ghosted across the skin of your throat.

“You mean to test me tonight… Is that your goal?”

You fell silent, your teeth nibbling on the flesh of your bottom lip.

No matter how hard you tried to deny it, to deny him, you couldn’t help but silently admit that maybe, just maybe…

Arsène was right.

Perhaps you did mean to test him, to test his resolve.

Perhaps you did want to see what he’d do to you, with your expressed consent, of course.

Maybe you did want to see just how far he’d go to rein you in.

If there was one thing you could say with absolute certainty about your husband, it was that he could be thorough and merciless when he wished to be.

“And if I do mean to test you?”

There. You said your piece, and you’d be damned if you even dared to take it back.

A low chuckle whispered across the exposed, sweating flesh of your throat as the two fingers that gently, oh so gently, screwed your womanhood were aided by a third finger.

“Then… I assure you that I will pass your test, dearest.”

Silence. A thoughtful stillness filled the dimly lit bedroom, silence that was broken only by the creaking of the bed as Arsène slowly, carefully rolled his clothed erection into your scantily clad bottom. Silence that was shattered only by your soft gasps, by the quiet mewls of approval that you tried—and failed—to keep bottled up.

“You sound so sure of that, my devilish husband.”

The hushed words rolled off of your tongue, hissed their way past your mouth before you could think, before you could stop to ask yourself if egging your beloved on was a good idea.

“Oh, Treasure,” Arsène growled lowly, baring a wolfish grin to you when you risked a glance over your shoulder.

Your dark, lewd stare met shimmering reddish orange irises, a devilish gleam that made the moonlight that danced across Arsène’s handsome visage pale in comparison.

A chill wormed its way up and down your spine, feeling the gloved hand that rested on your hip trail to the end of your spine, hooking an index finger into the lacy underwear, and slowly pulling it away from your bottom.

“You shouldn’t have said such a thing… Now I will have to prove it to you.”


End file.
